


Bad Patch

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ALSO everyone gets along and we all talk about our problems like mature adults, But we all knew that, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reader works with the Avengers, Reader-Insert, The Butterfly Project, has basically been adopted by all of them, no beta we die like self-sacrificial idiots, steve's a sweetheart, they cute okay, trigger warning, we STAN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Reader's anxiety acts up, and they get taken care of.





	Bad Patch

**Author's Note:**

> What???ME???? writing self indulgent hurt/comfort?
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I'm back on my bullshit
> 
> but also have you SEEN the canon recently I need all the denial I can get

Bad Patch

 

It was late. The entire complex was dark, every light extinguished. The hallways were silent, and the only sound to be heard was the faint humming of the servers running in the background. There was a low buzz as the lock on a door engaged, soon joined by the soft buzz and click of many as the security system came online. The floors for the residents were illuminated by the ghostly glow from the sleek panels next to the doors. If one were to look in from outside, they would only see one silhouette in a window.

 

The figure walked down the hallway, interrupting the patches of light with shadow, hobbling down the corridor. The slight frame shook as if the owner were desperately trying to stay upright. Little patches of wetness appeared behind them, marking a trail in the hallway where light bounced around the walls and ceiling. The figure reached one of the doors near the end of the hallway — the only one whose panel glowed red instead of green. When they came to a stop in front of the panel, a black square appeared. A second later, a soft _click_ bounced down the hall. The panel lit up with a green light.

 

A hand came to rest on the door, barely lit by the meager glow of the panel. The door swung open as the figure stepped in. The door shut with a finalized thud, leaving the hallway simply empty again, letting the building sleep.

 

The figure took two more steps into the room before the lights flickered to life. A small person stood just inside, their hair a tangled and frizzy mess, sopping wet. Their feet left a sodden path across the hardwood floor as she limped towards the window that took up most of the wall opposite. Because of the lights on the inside, it was almost impossible to see anything outside, so they were forced to look at their reflection.

 

Their eyes raked over every detail. Their knotted hair. Their pudgy cheeks. Their disproportionate ears. Their wobbling lower lip, not trembling with the force of trying not to cry.

 

They looked lower. Their weak hunched shoulders. Their nearly flat chest. Their fat tummy. Their wide hips. Their bulging thighs.

 

They looked back up to see their eyes. Red. Swollen. Puffy. Salt crusted at the corners. They couldn’t help it. They buried their face in their hands and started to cry. They got caught up in their tangled hair, pressing the wet strands to their tormented face. Thoughts that had been lingering under the surface burst into the front of their mind, bombarding her with voices that _wouldn’t stop._ Their crying grew more desperate, struggling for every breath in front of the windows. The sound filled the room, a single raindrop in a still ocean. They were so distraught it took them a few seconds to realize that someone was in the room with them.

 

They froze, shoulders tightening and hands clutching at her hair. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw another person slowly coming up behind them. They stopped right behind them, carefully reaching out to place their hands on their shoulders. Their touch was warm; a sharp contrast to their goose-bump ridden skin. They unconsciously relaxed into the feeling, their back relaxing and their hands going to wrap around their waist. They looked up to see Steve standing there, stepping up until his chest pressed against her back. Slowly, he began to run his hands down to their elbows and back, firmly rubbing away the chill. They managed to stop crying long enough to croak out a small: “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” he echoed, catching their eyes in the window and smiling. He continued to rub their arms.

 

They swallowed. They knew how bad this must look, just crying, staring at their reflection in the window so they began to explain. “I, uh…”

 

Unfortunately for them, a hand closed itself over their throat and their words choked off. “I just…got back…from…the site and it was — it was raining so — “

 

“I know,” he shushed gently, not wanting them to put too much strain on their voice, “I had FRIDAY let me know when you got back.”

 

He moved to massage the tighter knots out of their shoulders. Their upper body began to unclench and they leaned back into him, knowing he could take the weight.

 

“Did you forget what day it is, sweetheart?”

 

His voice made them tense up again. They furrowed their brow and began to run through a list they kept of days to remember. It wasn’t the forum with Ross and his lackeys. That was in two weeks. T’Challa hadn’t sent word he was visiting.

 

Steve saw their face grow scared as they racked their brain. EH smiled a gave their shoulders a slightly reprimanding squeeze.

 

“It’s the day you let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

 

Their heart sank. They always cried during this. Not because it made them sad, but because they felt they didn’t deserve it. They glanced back up, still hiccuping through their sobs.

 

“C-can’t we just s-skip it this t-time?”

 

He shook his head, smiling ruefully at them.

 

“Sorry. No can do. Romanoff would have my head.”

 

That wrenched a small giggle out of them. He wrapped his hands around their middle and pressed a tender kiss to the top of their shoulder. He felt them sigh and relax into him. He smiled against their wet skin. That was their way of giving in. Why he always had to fight to let him take care of them when they so badly needed it he’d never know.

 

But at least they always let him do it.

 

He looked back up, resting his chin on the curve between their shoulder and their neck, a comforting pressure on their sore muscles. He tightened his hold on them, only marginally, to feel them push back against him to feel his heartbeat through his shirt. He laced his fingers through theirs, lifting it and placing it over their own heart. The blood pumping steadily through their veins made him smile again, reminding both of them that they were alive and well.

 

“Ready?”

 

They could feel the vibrations from his throat as he spoke. They nodded slowly and let him lead them into the bathroom.

 

He pushed them gently behind a curtain in the corner that covered the shower, leaving a fluffy white towel hanging on the bar next to it. Pulling the curtain shit, he left them to change while he started the faucet in the tub across the room.

 

As they changed, they hung their drippy clothes over the racks in the shower, trying to remove their shirt as painlessly as possible without getting it tangled in their messy hair. Eventually, they managed it, wincing only a couple of times when the straps snagged on a matted clump or snarl.

 

When they’d finished undressing, they were shivering horribly. With a shaking hand, they reached out and wrapped the towel around themselves, trying feebly to create more warmth. It didn’t work.

 

When the sound of the curtain being pulled back drew his attention, Steve turned to see them walking over to the tub on shaking legs. Standing from where he was perched on the rim, he steered them towards the bath and slowly undid the towel, holding it out to cover them while they got in.

 

They gave a sigh of relief when their cold body submerged under the warm, bubbly water. Steve smiled at their happy little face.

 

Steve hung the towel carefully on the rack before reseating himself on the edge of the tub. The soap bubbles covered their modesty, leaving just their head and hands above the water. Placing his hands gently on either die of their head, he tipped them backward to submerge their hair in the sudsy water,

 

As their head went underwater, they allowed their eyes to close, relaxing in the warm water. They felt his hands carefully straightening out the knots in their hair, working a thick shampoo through it. He placed one hand under their skull to set them back upright. As their hair slowly emerged from beneath the mountain of bubbles, he squeezed more of the shampoo onto her scalp, working it through with deft fingers. The water slowly began to rise with more bubbles as he rinsed it all out.

 

The next step was an equally thick conditioner. Steve worked it carefully into their hair, making sure all of her head was covered. He began to rub their scalp gingerly, unsure if it would hurt. He smiled when they began to lean into his touch, almost purring. He increased the pressure, his fingers running over the base of their skull and the top of their head.

 

They whimpered as he pulled away, the lack of contact leaving them cold despite the warm water. He was back in two seconds, having grabbed a soft washcloth with which to wash their face. Using one hand to tip their chin up, he ran the washcloth slightly damp with cold water round their forehead, over their cheeks, and down to their jawline. They flinched and pulled back when he tried to clean the underside of their chin.

 

“Hurt.”

 

They shook their head. “Tickles.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

He couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice when they squinted slightly as he tipped their chin back up. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

 

He finished cleaning their face and set the cloth aside, moving to rinse the conditioner out of their hair. He took his time, making sure to get all of it — not easy with their thick hair. Once he was finished, he moved to put the bottles away, leaving them to soak in the still warm water for a while.

 

Eventually, the water ran cold and they began to try and get out. Steve, ever the gentleman, unfolded the towel they’d used earlier, now completely dry and heated thanks to the magic of Stark tech. He turned his head to the side as they for out, wrapping themselves in the towel. He helped them dry off their body, then grabbed another towel for their hair.

 

“Hold still.”

 

He rubbed their head all over, trying to get the water out, before pulling away and tossing it into the basket where he put their wet clothes. When he turned back, he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

 

Their hair stuck up in random places, frizzy and wet clumps sticking to parts of their face and neck. One large clump hung down over their eyes, only leaving their mouth visible. Another clump stuck stubbornly to their lip, giving them the appearance of a disgruntled hedgehog.

 

They blew the offending clump off their mouth, but because their hair was wet and their hands caught inside the towel, the clump over their eyes wasn’t going anywhere. Still trying not to laugh, Steve opened the door to the bathroom.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,”

 

They didn’t move. He walked closer, waving his hand in front of their face. He chuckled.

 

“Can you even see through that?”

 

“What do you think, Rogers?” Their voice had a bit of its normal spark back. He took that as a good thing.

 

“I’m guessing no.”

 

“Excellent deduction, Captain.”

 

This time he full-out laughed, brushing the fringe out of their face and taking their elbow.

 

“Better?”

 

“Much.”

 

They gave him a weak smile as he led them to sit on the bed, indicating she should wait. Crossing to the closet, he grabbed their oversized T-shirt that he swore was Thor’s that they used as a nightgown.

 

He placed it on the bed next to them and unfolded the towel, turning to put it away as they pulled on the shirt. The material, worn down from dozens of washes, fluttered softly over their body. It was like pulling on a blanket. Once they had it on, they wrapped their arms around their waist again relishing in the comfort of the shirt.

 

Steve emerged from the bathroom to see them curled up around themselves, wet hair falling in their face. They heard his approach and looked up, noticing the comb in his hand. He straightened and rose, T-shirt coming down to the tops of their thighs.

 

He sat down on age bed, scooting backward so there was room for them to sit between his legs. They sat facing the window. As get looked, they still noticed their misshapen face and scars. But they also saw Steve behind them, working the comb through their bedraggled hair. He saw them looking at their reflection and criticizing how they looked.

 

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

 

They met his gaze in the reflection, seeing his sympathetic expression.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

They tried to ask why.

 

“Close them,” he said firmly, eyes soft.

 

They complied, shutting their eyes and relaxing their shoulders, hands folded in their lap.

 

Steve tucked a stray clump of hair behind their ear before starting with the comb. He brushed their hair back away from their face, ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush their ears or forehead. Now and then he ran into a tangle that stopped the bristles of the comb. Then, he stopped, grabbing the opening clump just above the knot to prevent them from feeling the pain of him attacking the tangle with the comb until it passed through with ease.

 

When he was satisfied he’d thoroughly de-tangled their hair, he laid the com aside and began to repeat the process with his fingers. As he began, they sighed and leaned back into him, bringing a smile to his face. He finished separating the strands and began to wring them out gently. As he worked, little droplets of water squeezed out onto their shirt, creating a path that followed his fingers.

 

Eventually, he finished twining the various strands around and reached out to grab the comb to smooth any accidental tangles. As he reached past their wrist, he paused.

 

It was gone. Their butterfly was gone.

 

They always had a butterfly, drawn simply in black ink, on the inside of their wrist. The only time they didn’t was when…

 

Steve quickly combed their hair through and whispered: “I’ll be right back,” in their ear.

 

He stood, walking out the bedroom door to the little office. He made his footsteps loud so they could keep track of where he was. They trusted him, best not to break that.

 

Walking through to the office, he went to the desk and began rummaging around, looking for something. When he found it, he made his way back to their bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

They heard him close the door and his footsteps as he walked back across the room. They felt the bed say as he sat behind them again, and the warmth of his chest as he leaned them back.

 

Their hair created a wet trail down his shirt as they rested their weight on him but he paid it no mind. Steve tucked a few stray hairs behind their ears.

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

They did, staring at their reflection again. He saw their eyes well up slightly as they looked at themselves. They seemed to grow smaller, shoulders slumping forwards and hands balling into fists.

 

“What do you see?” He leaned forward, placing his hands on their waist. “What do you see that we can’t, sweetheart?”

 

They opened their mouth to speak, but nothing came out. They waited a few more seconds. So many things, so _many_ things, but no words? Still nothing. Steve waited, expectantly.

 

“I don’t know, I just…hate it.” They looked away. “That sounds really stupid out loud.”

 

“A bit, yeah.” Steve smiled, “especially since I know better.”

 

He was rewarded with a tiny smile. “Oh, really?”

 

“Absolutely.” He puffed his chest a bit and put on that horrible self-righteous poster boy voice. “I’m Captain America. Of course I know better.”

 

They giggled slightly at that. “How could I forget?”

 

“Just make sure you don’t do it again,” he mock-scolded, playfully squeezing their middle.

 

They jumped slightly until he released, then relaxed against him. Their smile faded as the effect wore off.

 

Steve noticed and reached around to lift their chin. They made eye contact in the reflection.

 

“I’m not the only one who knows better.”

 

Their brow wrinkled. He smiled.

 

“Not by a long shot. Tony knows better, Romanoff knows better, Bucky knows better, Thor knows better.”

 

“Alright,” they said, trying to cut him off. His smile grew wider.

 

“Clint knows better, Sam knows better, Rhodey knows better, Peter knows better, Vision knows better, Wanda knows better, Pepper knows better, Bruce knows — “

 

 

“Okay, okay!” they jerked their head away from his hand, “I get it, you can stop name dropping now.”

 

He dropped his arm to circle their waist. They relaxed into the touch, shoulders slumping again. He let them calm down for a bit before tugging gently on their sleeve to coax them to look back up.

 

“Do you want to know what we see?”

 

They nodded tentatively.

 

“Tony and Bruce see an efficient problem solver who takes everything they can into consideration, and will never leave a stone unturned.”

 

As he spoke, his hands began a slow journey from their waist to their shoulders in an attempt to ground them.

 

“Natasha and Clint see a fighter who will always do their best, no matter what the cost. Sam sees someone who knows when to follow the rules and when they need to be broken. Vision sees a resourceful agent who will always get to the bottom of a problem. Thor sees someone who can find a solution to anything, violent or not, who knows the value of mercy. Pepper sees someone who will always strive to fix things, damnation or not.”

 

Once his hands reached their shoulders, he gave them a reassuring squeeze before moving slowly down their arms.

 

“Peter and Wanda see a person they can talk to, who understands them and won’t judge their concerns. Buck sees someone who will love him unconditionally, knowing all of his flaws and past.”

 

One of his arms wrapped around their waist, holding them close. The other reached for their wrist. They glanced down, head snapping back up when Steve pressed a chaste kiss to the back of their neck. He met their gaze in the reflection and smiled.

 

“I see a person whose heart is only matched by their brain. Loyal till the end of the line — “ he heard them groan and smirked — “ and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. They’d do anything for us, and we’d do anything for them.”

 

He held their gaze in the reflection. They withered a little under his gaze, swallowing and looking away, trying to erase the lump in their throat. They looked at their wrist, pulse jumping kindly as Steve cupped their hand loosely in his. They closed their eyes, taking comfort in his warmth at their back, his arm around their middle, and his hand around theirs. They took a deep breath and opened their eyes.

 

“Well, then I must be blind.”

 

Steve’s chest vibrated lightly, pulling them closer. “That’s okay. We’ll be your eyes.”

 

He ran his thumb over the inside of their wrist, where the butterfly normally was. Their hand instinctively curled up at the contact, relaxing after a few seconds. They smiled when they felt him tighten his grip on them.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Those two words didn’t seem to do justice to what he’d done for them, what _all of them_ had done, but it was the best they could do. Luckily, it seemed to work just fine.

 

“Of course, sweetheart. Even though I just told you the truth.”

 

They ignored the second half just because they didn’t want to start crying again. “I guess this means I owe you again.”

 

His arm let go of their waist.

 

“Well…”

 

They looked up to see him turning the item he’d gotten from their office over in his fingers. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

 

They nodded, worriedly watching his face. He held up the object and their expression softened.

 

It was a black Sharpie from the pencil pot on their desk. He held it out nervously, waiting for them to take it.

 

With a shaking hand, they took the Sharpie from him. He grinned and let go of their hand, letting them uncap the pen. They glanced up and smiled, setting the cap back down in their lap. He picked it up and moved it to the bed beside them.

 

They put the bed to their wrist and began to draw. Their hands were shaking. They didn’t want to draw it. Then Steve’s warm hand held their wrist steady and they bit their lip in concentration. They could do this.

 

They reached for the cap and Steve put the pen on the bedside table. The butterfly was back on their wrist and the smile was back on their face. Steve turned their wrist so he could see the butterfly, pressing a kiss to their shoulder. It was so small. So plain. But it meant the world.

 

He picked them up, laying them down in the bed. Their eyes closed as he pulled the covers over them, his thumb running over the butterfly. He could feel their heartbeat under it. FRIDAY turned out the lights.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, “for letting me take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm also open to writing stuff like this with other characters as well lmk


End file.
